


Love Tastes So Good

by LizzyLovesPink



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Kirigiri, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe, Binge Eating Disorder, Bleak, Child Abuse, Consensual Underage Sex, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dual POV, Eating Disorders, Emotional Repression, Explicit Language, Food Metaphors, Forced Starvation, Forced dieting, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Lime, Mondo and Kyoko are around fourteen/fifteen when they do, Mondo's got a sweet Asian chick who goes lo mien, Negative Thoughts, One Shot, Parental Abuse, Pre-Canon, Pre-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), References to Japanese Mythology and Folklore, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Smoking, Stereotypical Gender Roles, Triggers, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vomiting, Whereas Kyoko is thirteen/fourteen and Yui is sixteen/seventeen when they do, binge eating, domestic abuse, so keep that in mind, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzyLovesPink/pseuds/LizzyLovesPink
Summary: Mondo feels guilty and alone after the death of Daiya, having nobody to fully turn to about his emotions nor any proper way to express them. Kyoko is constantly restrained by her religious schooling environment and her controlling grandfather to be pious, silent, and emotionally detached.Both unable to deal with their emotions, they turn to the one thing that can drown out their feelings of confusion, anger, and exhaustion: food. And then, each other.Please read the tags, I don't want anyone getting triggered needlessly by this!Also posted on FanFiction.net
Relationships: Kirigiri Fuhito & Kirigiri Kyoko, Kirigiri Kyoko & Owada Mondo, Kirigiri Kyoko & Samidare Yui, Kirigiri Kyoko/Owada Mondo, Kirigiri Kyoko/Samidare Yui, Owada Daiya & Owada Mondo
Kudos: 2





	Love Tastes So Good

**Author's Note:**

> There'll be a much longer Author's Note at the end if you want to learn more about how exactly this fic came to be, but in this section I'll just say; this comes from a very personal place for me. A lot of what is described in this fic I've experienced in my own life dealing with this eating disorder and it genuinely sucks to try and deal with these sorts of things on your own when everyone else is either clueless or goes about solving the problem the wrong way. Made even worse by the fact this was not considered a real eating disorder back when I had it. This was very freeing in a way for me to write about and I hope the emotional center of the story comes through to you, even if you personally have little or no experience with these things.

A dude like him wouldn't be expected to own anything fancy, not even a suit, not even anything in black. Why would he? He was poor as shit and never got the chance to wear such clothes. 

If it were up to him, he'd just wear his jacket; it was black and fancy enough, would anyone even care, would anyone even look at him? God, he hoped they didn't. 

He tried to ask his mother and she just giggled and told him it wasn't suitable for a funeral. She giggled. Why the hell did she giggle like that? His dad wasn't even an option to ask, he didn't even entertain the idea, so instead he asked the gang-his gang, now. The thought stung in his mind like he slammed the back of it against a concrete sidewalk. He hated having to remind himself it was his gang now, his gang now. 

Takemichi was the one who suggested he find a place to rent a suit for cheap, he had the money to loan, or he could find some place to buy them second-hand, maybe not black but dark enough. Mondo decided against owing someone money so quickly and instead bought what he could find, ending up with a black dinner jacket and grey suit pants. 

Better than nothing. 

=

It was raining heavily when the actual funeral took place, drumming loudly against umbrellas and on the trees and running mud down the sidewalks. Mondo stood away from his parents and even further away from the gang-his gang, not looking at anyone. His dad wore an all grey suit while his mom wore a lumpy black dress that resembled a bedsheet. He expected her at least to splurge on a set of pearls and black kimono. They huddled together under a white umbrella and still he stood alone, getting soaked to the bone. He shoved his hands into his pockets, biting his lip so he wouldn't shiver despite feeling the cold and wet fabric press against him and hang on his form. He bit his lip again, biting it so hard he tasted the telltale irony liquid. 

If he was bleeding, good. He could handle a little blood, he saw blood practically every day, sometimes was the cause of that blood. 

Except when it was Daiya's blood. 

His blood, dripping out silently onto the blackened road, dripping out silently into Mondo's own hands, on his clothes, staining them. 

It was his own goddamn fault no matter how he looked at it, and thus he couldn't cry. It was his own fault Daiya died, it was his own fault for driving recklessly, it was his own fault for always feeling pathetic and worthless, and look what came of it. He was a goddamn murderer. 

Was it worth it? Was it worth it to no longer be seen as the weak and unmanly younger brother? 

After the funeral, several of the gang members walked up to him, trying to encourage him and keep him in good spirits despite what had happened, grinning and slapping him on the back. 

"Glad you're the new leader. You're deserving of it," 

"Hey, don't let it bother ya. He's pretty weak if ya think about it, goin' out like that?" 

"Yeah, out with the old and in with the new!" 

"Pleasure workin' with ya!" 

"Far more worthy than he ever was," 

What the actual fuck was any of this. They were praising him, encouraging him, laughing with him, all because he was a cold-blooded murderer! How could they? How fast those smiles and that praise would disappear if he just blurted out right then and there what he did. He could, he very easily could just admit what had happened when Daiya hadn't even been properly put in the ground. 

Instead of responding, he clenched his fist and grit his teeth, looking away. 

"You okay there, Boss?" 

Shit, wasn't it bad to just stand around blankly and say nothing? He had to say something, anything, something that wasn't at all related to Daiya. 

"Yup, I'm perfectly fine. You guys are right. Big Bro, gettin' himself killed like that means he's a total weakling. I deserved the title," The words were bitter bile and sour poison in his mouth as if he bit into a bug and it burst inside, squirting its juice into his insides. 

They bought the lie, patting him on the back, grinning, and went their separate ways. Mondo felt his features darken. God, he could vomit. If he was made to speak again, he wasn't sure he could get words out without stuttering and looking like a fool. Even his own lie didn't feel convincing enough. 

"Mondo!" His mother called over and he walked over numbly, his feet on autopilot. "I know you two were very close," She started to pull him close, maybe to hug him, maybe to pat his head, maybe to just have him close, but he started and pushed her away slightly. 

"Come on, I'm wet. Don't want to ruin your dress or nothin'," He said quickly. 

"Awww, you're such a gentleman!" She smiled at him. "I raised you right," 

He just laughed hollowly and remained silent for the rest of the time, he was silent on the way home and he was silent when they arrived. He trudged up to his room, sat on his bed, and didn't move for a very long time. The rain soaked into the sheets and made his room smell slightly of the water. 

Once he got up and clenched his fists, playing everything that had happened that day back in his head, and with a growl he rushed forward and punched a massive hole in his wall, right next to his bed. 

=

He saw his father less and less after the funeral, but that suited him just fine. His father was a drunken asshole at the best of times who got bad hangovers and picked fights with their mother. Some kids at his school gave him a hard time over it, basically saying he was a walking archetype of poorness, of being unsightly and so obviously 'from the wrong side of the tracks' to quote some American saying, and sometimes Mondo responded back with punches depending on who was saying it. It was just his life, not the one he would've asked for but it was what he got. 

He assumed his dad was like that because he was a product of financial instability and took to drinking his problems away, which was weak in Mondo's eyes, especially since he used it as an excuse to beat his wife and every once in a while his kids. 

His mother, on the other hand, he saw more and more of after the funeral, which he was glad for. She still smiled in that overly cheerful way of hers and it reminded him of how much he loved her. He did genuinely love her, enough to smack anyone who made fun of him for it. Nothing was wrong with loving your mother, after all, and she had taught basically everything he knew about women to him. She had vibrant purple eyes she gifted to her sons like jewels and curly black hair who loved collecting cosmetics and wore her old crocheted outfits from her brief year in university. 

Kind, delicate, caring, and gentle. Never able to hurt a fly. A genuinely good person. 

How'd she marry a scumbag like his dad? 

How'd she lovingly raise a murderer like himself? 

"Morning!" She greeted him then, placing a big plate of breakfast meats on the table in front of him. "I know you usually like fish and rice, but I thought I could try something different! These have a lot of protein in them and big strong men like yourself need to keep their strength up, right?" She pretended to flex before leaving. 

Once, in his life before, he would've laughed and found her silly. Daiya would've agreed and thanked her. 

Now, he barely cracked a smile. He just dug into the food, remembering to still give her a brief thanks for cooking it. He was unused to her cooking more Western stuff but it tasted pleasant, as he expected. Hot, enough grease to pull down a semi, and surprisingly spicy as well. He ate until nothing was left, feeling a bit heavy and stuffed from the grease but knowing he could easily work it off later if he became incredibly concerned about it. He placed his plate in the sink and went outside to do upkeep on his bike. It didn't really need it, but it was a good distraction. He needed something mindless, something rhythmic, something to keep his hands busy. Anything to prevent him from thinking about Daiya. 

After he punched that hole and tried to recollect himself, the grey pants and black jacket were torn off, bunched into a tight ball, and then thrown into the back of his drawers. He didn't even want to throw them into one of his dirty clothes piles for fear he'd come across them again when trying to find clothes for other things. 

He worked mindlessly, letting his mind be consumed. He only stopped and came inside for lunch and dinner, eating everything on his plate. His mom praised him and said he had a good appetite for a growing boy. 

=

His mom still loved him, he knew that. It was obvious. She cooked with love, everything she made was full of love for him and solely him. She still talked to him and smiled, even gossiped about him a little to her gaggle of friends who loved giggling and hanging on everything she said. They were typical girls, housewives who had grown up and added that topic to their conversations but otherwise talked about boys and clothes and other girly stuff they never really outgrew. He'd never understand how women could spend hours just discussing what shoes to wear. They were just shoes, you just needed one pair to protect your feet and replaced them every few years when they got worn-out. That was if you were lucky enough to have some extra cash saved-up, of course, but still. You didn't need a pair to match literally every other piece of clothing you owned. 

He also saw them less, not because of anything they did, but because most of his time was spent with the gang-his gang. He needed to get that into his head still, it seemed. He was known to be tough and fearsome especially around other people, but around the members he was easygoing and looking out for the little guy. It made him feel proud to put Daiya's teachings into practice, it made him happy that for once, something of Daiya's got to live on in some form. He owed that to him, at least. 

His mother still cooked for him, big hearty meals and he ate out more with his gang. Others might've been worried about gaining weight but that was never an issue on his mind, he still worked-out and was already quite fit in the physical department. He was muscular and athletic and tall and a guy besides. Didn't they eat way more? 

Unsurprisingly, his father still drank, choosing more often to do it at home than somewhere else like a somewhat decent person would've. Bottle after bottle, glass after glass, can after can, piling up. It reeked. 

Mondo never really stuck around much to watch his dad drink, why would he, though sometimes out of the corner of his eye he noticed things. How his dad seemed to be in a trance while drinking and how he just kept reaching for stuff to drink like a machine. Some days, it reminded Mondo of his own habits, where it took him only minutes to eat and he asked for seconds and thirds, just randomly reaching around for a plate, but he'd always put those thoughts away from his head. He wasn't a damn addict like his old man, and besides, who ever heard of a food addiction like that? Alcohol was a drug, it was made to be addictive, to make you forget your problems for a time. Food was meant for survival, for living. Why would it be addictive?  
So what if sometimes he asked for thirds, so what if sometimes the food had little taste? Even when his mom cooked, it still didn't have taste. No more spices or juices to explode in his mouth because he chewed everything too fast to properly register it, but what the hell, what was the problem? He was just a fast eater. It wasn't like his dad chugging down five bottles in several minutes at his worst. 

Nothing at all like that. 

He could control it, if he wanted to, unlike his dad. It was just food. 

=

"Where's the money goin'?" 

"Whatever do you mean?" 

"Don't play dumb with me, you bitch!" He shoved her against the wall, ignoring her scream. Her back hit it and she gasped in pain. Mondo silently watched from the doorway, a shadow. "I saved up a ton specifically for you to buy food with and it's all gone! Did you spend it on some jewelry? Makeup?" His dad stormed over to his mom and pulled her off the ground, shaking. She started crying. "Answer me! You spent it on yourself, didn't you?!" 

"N-No..." 

"What?" 

"No, I didn't! I swear! The money was gone when I came home this morning!" She sobbed more. 

"Dumb whore," He tossed her aside, leaving her to crumple up on the floor. "This whole family fell apart after _his_ death. My other son became a good-for-nothing thug and my wife became a slut!" 

"I took it to buy some drinks for my gang because it ended up being too expensive. I miscounted. Took more than I thought. Sorry," Mondo finally cut in, sick of his dad's bullshit. He shrugged carelessly. 

"An apology ain't gonna cut it. You think I work my ass off all day and all night for ya to get shitfaced with your punk friends? What'd ya do afterwards? Kick over mailboxes? Steal signs? Knock up some chicks?" His dad turned on him then, his violet eyes fuming. His mother remained crying on the floor. 

"I'll get a job or somethin' to make up for it! It's just some fuckin' money, come on!" Mondo shot back, finally storming up to his room. He heard his dad shout some more randomly before the front door slammed. He waited a minute, then went back down to the living room to find his mom wiping at her eyes, trying to fix her hair. "Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, making her smile weakly. 

"You're such a good boy, Mondo," She praised, putting her hand on his head. "Always asking after your mother," She left after that, leaving Mondo alone in the house with a sudden urge to vomit. 

He took the money, he wasn't lying about that, but it wasn't for his gang. After school, he passed a convenience store that was nearby, not super out of the way, and was compelled to go inside and look around, get some things. After all, he was pressing more and more at the gym and he needed to keep his strength up, right? So he loaded down on every possible snack he could think of and hid it all away in the pantry the instant he got home, nearly forgetting all about the stash. 

Until now. 

Fuck knows where his dad went, he had no clue and didn't care. Probably some bar to get drunk. His mom was likely at a friend's and would be gone for a few hours at least. He had some time alone. 

Jumping at the chance, he headed into the kitchen and walked slowly as he opened the pantry. Rice crackers, chips, candy, instant ramen, microwaveable fries, ice-cream sandwiches, and more. He was hungry and prone to snacks and junk purely because he had no clue how to cook anything himself so it'd make sense he'd live off stuff like that when his mom wasn't around. It was fine, it was just food. 

He yanked open the pantry door and searched around, just grabbing the first thing his hands closed upon, a giant bag of chips. He stuffed several into his mouth, also shoving a few cookies in there too. They were filled with cream but Mondo barely noticed the explosion of flavour mixing with the salty exterior of the chips. He downed a soda to wash the food down, continuing on. Once the one bag of chips was emptied he ate another one; ranch but he hardly noticed. None of the flavours really registered in his mouth, in his brain. All that mattered was just eating. 

Eat, eat, eat. Just shove food into your mouth, get it into your system. 

Two bags of chips, the whole tray of cookies. 

He shoved the trash in the bottom of the trash can and breathed heavily, coming out of it. He felt exhausted and heavy, weighed-down by the large amount of junk in his system. All he had energy for was to trudge back upstairs and collapse into his bed. 

=

Takemichi had been calling him non-stop, asking why he never wanted to hang out, with the gang, just with him, where was he? His mom was out shopping and his dad was watching television, likely hung-over again. Mondo spent the past few days in bed, rolling over and biting his lip as he read Takemichi's messages. He had been eating a lot the last few nights, resulting in him feeling like boulders had been strapped to his ankles and crushed in his stomach. He hadn't worked any of it off at the gym because even the very thought sapped his energy away. The only thing he currently had energy for was going to the store and getting more snacks, he was almost out. He hadn't even turned any lights on, shrouding him in near-darkness. 

Snacks were good, but he needed more filling meals, actual TV dinners and microwavable things of that nature. He was big and bulky and needed the protein and energy. No matter how much he ate in terms of snacks, they never fully satisfied. It was like trying to fill up the tank of a motorcycle with gas, only to have the bike still blink 'empty' at you when you try to turn it on, when you just put a full tank in it. 

Or something. Mondo was never one for poetry. 

Besides, if he went, maybe he'd see that one chick again. A mysterious girl with icy skin, hair as lilac as his own eyes, and dressed almost entirely in black. When he first saw her, he assumed she was from a richer portion of town, no doubt. No way she looked that good on a budget. And the second thing. The cake in her hands. A giant chocolate cake that piqued his curiosity. 

"A birthday?" He asked. She looked up at him, tension briefly on her features. 

"Yes. A friend. Lots of people will be coming to the party so I needed a big cake," She said quickly, paying and leaving. She held the cake balanced in her arms with very little difficulty, she didn't even falter. He was curious about her. Something about her...she was likely some posh rich chick, but the fashion sense showed her edge. Maybe they could cross paths again. 

His thought turned to the cake. He caught a brief glimpse to know it had icing flowers decorating the side, girly but who cared. He would've liked to eat something like that, a whole cake just for himself, but no way he had enough money for something that large. Where would he even hide it? They came in big plastic boxes and neither the fridge nor pantry had enough room. 

Once, the bin got knocked over on accident. Mondo heard the clatter and raced into the kitchen, his heart leaping into his throat when he saw the whole thing spilled out and his mom had gotten there first. The wrappers he placed at the bottom were in full view and she picked one up in confusion. 

"Where did all this come from? Who's been eating so much?" 

"The gang. You know them, they love to eat crap like that," 

She smiled more. "Tough guys like to eat their own weights in snacks, huh? I just wish they could pick something healthier at least once," 

She was just teasing, he knew, but his heart ached. 

He slowly crawled out of bed then, dressing to the best of his care and ability. These days he rarely made an attempt to look good in the clothing department, just the same shirt and pants under his jacket, what did it matter? Was anyone even looking at him that closely? He slipped some money into his pocket and headed down to the store, going for the freezers. He paid little mind to what he bought, just random frozen dinners, a few stacks of them, and some more boxes of cookies just in case he couldn't wait to eat until the food was done. It happened every so often; something in the oven would take twenty thirty forty fifty minutes _but you just can't wait, your last meal was at noon and that was six seven eight hours ago and you have to eat now, you're hungry, it's okay, you can eat, it's just some food, it's not a goddamn addiction like what your old man has, it's just food, you're just hungry, nothing is wrong-!_

After he paid, he walked outside and stopped suddenly when he saw that girl again, sitting on the curb, chowing down on a hamburger. He couldn't tell what number she was on; the wrappers scattered around her were too bunched to be a proper gauge. He briefly thought of calling out to her, asking if she was okay, asking her name, asking if maybe she'd share, something, anything, but decided against it. She looked up once and didn't stop eating despite her mouth moving; her eyes were glazed-over. He figured she had no clue where she even was. 

He just left, going back home. He cooked six TV dinners that night and ate them along with two boxes of cookies before bed. At the time, he thought nothing, felt nothing, tasted nothing, but lying in bed in the dark, he felt weary, ill, and pathetic most of all. What would Daiya think if he saw him now, a terrible excuse of a gang leader, a waste of a legacy? Someone who stuffed his face at every given opportunity, always eating for no real reason, like some weakling with no control? He was a man! He should have much better control than this! 

He had failed Daiya. 

=

Despite his best attempts, he couldn't fend off the gang and their concerns forever, so a few days before his birthday, he decided to humor them and actually see them for once. He slowly trudged out of bed, dressed as decently as he could manage, and went to their usual spot they usually hung out at, pacing around nervously. 

"The hell's wrong with ya? Ya look like shit," One of the members asked upon seeing him. 

"Yeah, can't ya keep still?" Another asked. 

"I've been sick," Mondo grumbled, glaring at them only once to shut them up. "I'm here now. What do you guys say we go out on a ride? Just a simple ride," 

"Now you're talkin'!" The members cheered eagerly, getting their bikes ready. Even then, Mondo couldn't fight the smile that formed on his face as he watched them, feeling proud and excited as their good moods rubbed off on him. A smile that only grew as he revved up his own bike. Despite everything that had happened, he still had it and would feel as though everything would be alright again once he started to ride it. Riding a motorcycle, to him, was like starring in a movie. Everything else was an extra, you were the star. He revved his one final time and sped off, leading the group. They were all aware of the formation at that point so Mondo got to keep an eye on everything, now grinning widely. He hadn't felt this exhilarated in a while, a good, long, while. 

They chose to ride out into the country, kicking up some dust on the empty, unpaved roads. He kept his usual eye on things, wanting to speed up when his stomach felt wobbly suddenly, ready to flip. He dug his feet into the bike and bit his lip. What the hell was wrong? He wasn't sick, not at all! It was likely just the exhilaration. Yeah, yeah that was it. He wasn't sick at all. He shook off the feeling and kept driving, trying to ignore the rising nausea in his throat, the dizzying sensation in his eyes, and the airy feeling in his head that forced him to slow down his bike more. He tried not to groan as the nausea sent a ripple through his body and he forced his bike to skid to a stop, swerving it closer to the grass, careful not to tip it over. 

A torrential flood of vomit showered from his mouth, dousing the dirt with the bright orange-yellow of barely-digested food and the typical sound of splattering fluid. He breathed heavily, gasping for breath, staring down at the grossness in disgust, briefly hearing someone call his name before he slipped from the bike, hitting the ground and letting his bike collapse by his side. 

=

"You have binge-eating-disorder," The girl said a few weeks after that incident. She did not phrase it as a question; rather, it was a statement. A giant tub of ice-cream sat between them, empty, and Mondo was looking away from her, trying to smoke. He didn't normally smoke in front of girls because they hated it, said it stunk and ruined their clothing, but he doubted this girl would mind much. She came from money but had too much edge to her to actually care about superficial girl stuff. That said, she was still a chick and needed respect. And with _that_ said, he needed something in his mouth and couldn't help it. "It's like a food addiction, a little," 

"I'm athletic so I eat more, like my mom says. She always cooks big meals for me so I eat more portions," He declined. 

She said nothing and stared up at the setting sun. He glared at her, suddenly feeling anger. Who did she think she was to come into his life and try to tell him what he did or didn't have?! He wasn't like his dad who was an actual alcoholic with a problem, you can't even get addicted to food! 

"I don't have a goddamn addiction! I'm nothing like my old man who binge-drinks like crazy! He drinks our money away and uses it as an excuse to beat his wife! I ain't like him!" He blurted out, making her look back at him. "Alcohol does shit to people, ya know? It's a drug," 

"Can I have one of those?" She pointed to his cigarette box, making him start. Girls didn't smoke, that just wasn't something they did. They weren't tough enough to handle it. Finally, he managed to ask if she did smoke. 

"No," She answered, taking one from him anyway, lighting it, taking a drag, coughing, taking another drag, then sighing. "I just read some things on American sites. Experts are aware of it, but it's not classified as a real eating disorder yet. Do you have uncontrollable thoughts of binging and feel like you're starving until you do eat? Do you plan out your binges? Do you feel guilty or ashamed? Do you eat alone?" 

He was caught off-guard and stared at her, dumb-founded. He thought of his incident on the motorcycle and wondered if this chick had something similar happen to her. Still, he couldn't say such a thing, couldn't even entertain the idea something was wrong, because it wasn't! 

"This is real personal stuff," 

"I'm pretty sure I have it. My grandfather raged on me when he caught me in the middle of eating a giant pot of spaghetti noodles and locked all the food away from me," She took another drag and coughed. 

"Jesus," He commented. "Who does that to their own kid, or grandkid I guess. Ya need food, not much bein' a chick, but still," 

"It's hard to hide things from me. One way or another, I get what I want," 

He looked closer at her and realized there was so much more she wasn't telling him, years of things she wasn't saying. Still, he didn't have any problem like that. He just was eating like a normal person did! 

"I don't have an addiction. Nothing's wrong with me!" He insisted again, hearing his voice turning notably weaker. She stared him down, making him tremble. He clenched his fists to make it stop. "L-Look, chick, I'm fine. I don't got any eating disorder! That stuff's for chicks anyway, and I ain't one!"

She shrugged and stamped out the cigarette, tossing some money into his lap. He choked at the amount, his suspicions confirmed. 

She was an edgy rich girl. 

He looked up at her, but she didn't turn his way, already walking off. 

"Oowada Mondo!" He shouted at her, not expecting her to even hear. 

"Kirigiri Kyoko," 

=

The next time he saw her, she dressed similarly to a biker chick; a leather jacket over a flowery dress and velvet hair ribbons. They said nothing but begin binging as soon as they're out of the store; chicken and pizza and cake. It takes them forty-five minutes to eat everything and afterwards they sat together, feeling sick. He himself couldn't shake Daiya from his mind again and it infuriated him. He already knew he was a pathetic excuse of a younger brother, why did he need to keep being reminded? He had no idea what was going through Kyoko's mind. They both lit up cigarettes and he felt the food roil around in his stomach, swimming in grease and oil. 

After a time, she looked at him briefly. 

"Let's do it," 

"You ain't that kinda girl," He declined. "You ain't a street girl," 

"I want to," She blew some smoke out of her mouth. 

"If you're sure," 

She flicked the still-burning cigarette away and scooted over to him, clamping her hands on his face and kissing him; a kiss that tasted of smoke and grease and buttercream. He felt cold leather against his cheeks and looked down once she pulled away; her hands were clad in leather gloves that shielded them from view. 

She never wore those before. 

He understood, then. Whatever had happened to her before, she was in the same boat as him now. She needed to forget, to drown in the same misery and disappointment he wallowed in daily. He could oblige her, if only for one night. 

He knew a place, it wasn't good or even decent, but it was cheap and a good place to forget oneself for a time. He had her permission to be dominant, to take control of her, to let his masculine predatory side fully come out. So, he allowed it for one night. 

He threw her onto the bed and pinned her down, grabbing her wrists tightly and climbing on top of her. She was young, prim flesh, like venison, untouched and unspoiled, perfect for a rich feast. She knew more than he thought; she licked and sucked at his inners, giving herself an appetizer of small steak that left her unsatisfied but ultimately uncaring. He pinned her back down and growled, biting at her neck and wrists, wanting to sink his teeth into her. Venison was rare and expensive and should be savoured, but instead, he devoured her quickly, wanting nobody else to partake. He made short work of her, he put himself inside her and kissed her, tasting the buttercream and grease and nicotine. He tightly held her hands, feeling them squeeze his through their leather confinements. Once isn't enough; he had several servings that night, dousing her insides and outsides in salty streams, pulling out and looking at her. 

Her eyes were closed and she resembled more the boney remains of a meal once carnivores got to it. They tore off the flesh with their teeth, fought over the meat, leaving the carcass to bleed and rot. Her organs and flesh were gone, devoured, picked apart by him, leaving only her grisly bones. Maybe he should've felt bad about being sloppy, about being greedy, about only feasting for himself and not even cleaning her bones, licking them. It wasn't the carnivore's job to clean up after themselves. 

He left a pack of his cigarettes on the table for her to find when she came to her senses and left, not looking back. 

=

His gang all took a silent oath of never speaking about when he puked and collapsed off his bike, which was just as well. Mondo felt it would be better if nobody else learned about it. He still tried to work-out and hang with everyone, but Daiya's shadow weighed heavily on him. Some nights, it was that shadow that kept him from opening the pantry or fridge, no matter how hungry he got, no matter how annoyed or frustrated or angry he got, he'd think of Daiya's disappointed reaction if he knew, and he'd close the door. 

Kyoko met up with him sometimes still, binging. She could still eat things like cakes in thirty minutes and spend the next few hours trying to tell herself she was hungry, she was just hungry, she was hungry. Mondo understood that. Sometimes she asked him to kiss; they would. Sometimes she asked him for something more and he'd have to decline. Even with his somewhat-healthier eating habits, he had problems getting it up and never had enough energy for even a round. That one time had been special, and just that, a one-time-thing. If she needed it that badly, he could hook her up with a gang member. 

"I want you," 

"Sorry," 

In a way, the gym was his new addiction. Every time he felt something bubble up, he'd grab his keys and jacket and head out to run or punch something. It was good, right? Guys were meant to punch out their emotions and bulk up, girls were the ones who ate and starved their emotions away. Bulk up he soon did, using the punching bag the most. It felt good to be a man. Kyoko was a chick, an edgy chick, but a chick nonetheless, so it made sense for her to eat her feelings away. She was weak and innocent. Either they ate or cried or both. Mondo was a man though, and men were tough and never let weaker emotions get them down. Every time they felt them, they'd fight them out. It was how all men were, Mondo included. 

As long as he was the strongest, he could protect those who were weaker and couldn't protect themselves. He would do Daiya proud by that belief, prouder than he had ever made him. Unlike Daiya, he wasn't weak, never was, not at all. It was almost good that Daiya died, almost. He was the weak one while Mondo was the strong one. 

Still, even if Daiya was weak, even if Mondo was strong, he was still a coldblooded murderer. A killer. People liked him for it. Fucking idiots. 

He remembered the day after the funeral when he was more clear-headed and saw the hole he punched in the wall. Looking at it made his emotions bubble up inside, tears threatening to pour down, all of his terror and guilt and shame and grief. In anger, he just punched the hole yet again, making it bigger. It made him feel better, that raw anger. He angrily told himself men never cried over anything, which was true. Men never felt things like guilt. His gang was right, he was the strongest. Natural selection or some shit like that. He was truly the strongest of the bunch, and it was time he started acting like it.

^*^

It was only five in the afternoon when Kyoko returned home for vacation and she was already famished. She spent the majority of the day packing and tidying up the school as expected, as well as doing the daily religious duties as expected by her school's religious missionaries. Her very few acquaintances-Kyoko didn't even want to refer to them as friends because to her that was not what they were-tried to offer help or greetings but Kyoko ignored them. She had lunch and breakfast as offered by the school and briefly humored the thought of taking an extra serving of miso soup but decided the scolding wouldn't be worth it. Besides, it was her last day at school for several weeks. There'd be plenty of food to eat at her grandfather's house, if she chose to eat it. The train ride back was uneventful and Kyoko walked the remainder of the way to her neighborhood, finding the key under the mat and unlocking it, walking inside. 

"Hello?" She called out only once, getting no answer. If her grandfather was at home, she'd know. She took off her shoes, duffel bag, jacket, and left them all by the door. Her stomach was growling then; not just growling but churning angrily, hot claws of acid scratched at her insides and she winced at how truly hungry she was. Food, that's what she needed. It was a long trip home and she just needed to replenish herself. She headed for the kitchen and pulled open the pantry, finding nothing good in there and opened the fridge in its place, finding a plethora of cold meals, and frozen dinners in the freezer. Yes, more than enough. She pulled out several frozen dinners and cooked them all to the best of her ability; she always preferred making them in the oven because not only could she make more at once and thus cut down on waiting time, they also tasted better and were supposedly a lot healthier. The oven didn't take away any vital nutrients. 

Once four of them were done, she pulled them out of the oven and had enough thought left in her mind to get some silverware, digging into the dinners sitting on the kitchen floor. She ate and ate, tossing the empty trays behind her once she finished one. Her stomach kept growling as she ate; even once the dinners were gone she found herself eating an entire box of microwave curry and three whole bowls of miso soup. To wash it down was two kettles-worth of tea and three slices of cake that were left over. Kyoko didn't remember what they were from or who they were for, but it didn't matter. She ate them all the same. Afterwards, she stepped out of the kitchen and covered her mouth. The hunger had finally receded, but now she felt exhausted. She quickly cleaned up the mess, shoving it down into the bottom of the trashcan. 

_It was a long train trip, and I hadn't eaten much for lunch beforehand,_ She tried rationalizing to herself in her head. _I wasn't super hungry, but as long as Grandfather doesn't find out..._ She picked her jacket and duffel bag back up and headed to her room, falling on her bed. She felt exhausted and slept within minutes, not wanting to think about her resulting binges the next day. That was for the next day. 

=

Yui Samidare visited her quite a lot whenever they had vacations, and despite her grandfather's first negative impression of her, once Yui had explained the situation, he seemed to cool down a bit towards her. Kyoko allowed her to hang out quite a bit especially when they had investigations to go on, but Kyoko was quite careful to never let the girl visit in afternoons or evenings when she could see a potential binge. Kyoko did genuinely enjoy Yui's company even if she never admitted it, and she knew the feeling was definitely mutual on Yui's side. 

The three were eating dinner together that night; a traditionally Japanese one. 

"You always seemed like a more modern family," Yui couldn't help quipping. "You know, eating curry and ramen and things like that," 

Fuhito eyed Yui and made her smile nervously. "Stuff like this is okay too. Pickled vegetables are pretty good," 

Kyoko remained silent and stared down at her food. She had already finished it and her stomach was still growling. It was silent; silent like its owner, but she could feel it and it was scratching those claws of magma across her insides and making her subtly wince. 

"Finished eating? Then you may leave. Never seen a girl with an appetite like yours," Fuhito turned his attention to Kyoko, who tried to match his gaze. 

"I always eat everything I'm given," Angry red claws; taking the form of rice-balls. She really wished she had some of those now. Or cottage cheese. She'd love a big bowl of that, tucked up in front of the fridge. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Yui-oneesama," She said stiffly, walking away from the table. She locked herself in her room and read for the remainder of the night, trying to ignore the gnawing in her stomach. It never went away and just grew stronger, and Kyoko felt her head start to pound on top of that. She didn't just want to eat, she needed to eat. God, she was starving! She unlocked her door and headed to the kitchen on silent steps, noticing Fuhito was in his office. Yui must've gone home already. She pulled open the fridge and started sloppily making rice-balls, shoving some of the rice into her mouth anyway as she made them. She ate two peaches for better taste and a bag of seaweed, only then realizing she forgot to put the seaweed on the bottom of the rice-balls. Nothing for it now. She ate the whole bag and another bag of chips Yui must've bought for her and her grandfather never found. She would've known if he had found it. 

"Kyoko?" His voice reached her and her eyes widened. Quick as lighting she was on her feet and shoving the trash into the bottom of the bin; his footsteps stopped right behind her. "What are you doing?" 

She whirled around and tried to stare him down, keeping her hands in front of her. 

"Throwing something away," 

"You had no trash from dinner," 

"I found something in my room. I think Yui-oneesama left it," She managed to walk past him and headed to her room, clutching her stomach. The gnawing was gone but it was instead replaced with sick roiling. Once she was in the safety of the locked, militaristic room, she looked at her reflection in her window and tensed at it. She was disgusting. Why did she stuff her face so much? It started out as something simple, she always ate to try and block out the sounds of her father and grandfather arguing over the family and her future, and then it became a habit. She was always hungry, it seemed, and every time she binged, the hunger would return even worse than before. 

Her father once said she looked just like her mother, except with violet colourings and not silver hair and red eyes like she had. Kyoko never retained her mother's appearance. She tugged on the tight blouse she wore. Her grandfather told her her mother wasn't fat like she was. She remembered her mother on the very edge of life and death, and she was so thin a light breeze could've knocked her over. 

Kyoko turned away from the window and continued reading her book from earlier. It was a book on Japanese folklore that Yui gave her after she confessed she knew very little about the myths especially after they both had a religious studies class at their school. Yui gasped and the very next day got the book for Kyoko. She wasn't extremely fascinated in the myths; she felt a disconnect from her own culture, but Yui had gotten it for her and she didn't want Yui to feel like her time and money had been wasted. 

One of the stories that struck out to her was the story of the futakuchi-onna; the two-mouthed-woman who grew a second mouth in the back of her head and shoved whatever food was near into her, using the hair as tentacles. They came about when people were stingy and miserly and refused to feed their wives or daughters and thus, the woman transformed as a form of revenge. The second mouth would scream and demand food, giving the woman a headache until she complied. 

It was a fitting punishment for a man like her grandfather; controlling and stingy. Yet she wished it was not her who had to fulfill that role. 

She didn't want to just be a punishment. 

=

The holiday season drew closer. It was always cold in the morning but Kyoko insisted on always taking out the trash, wearing the heaviest clothing she could find and taking it out, often before her grandfather even realized it was an issue. 

"Yui-oneesama might visit us for the holidays again," She randomly mentioned one night during dinner. She ate all of her food already and stared at the empty bowls, tightly gripping her pants underneath the table. Her stomach roiled angrily, burning and scraping, like magma. She didn't dare ask for more. 

"You seem very close to her. Is there anything going on between you two I should know about?" Fuhito stared at her carefully. 

"We're both part of the same agency," Kyoko insisted firmly. "Nothing strange about it at all," 

"Doesn't she have her own family? It's bad for a future detective to get so close to someone else. Your father made that mistake." 

"Because he was foolish," Earlier, she could see her reflection in the tea and soup, but now she saw nothing. 

"I raised you right in that regard," 

Kyoko excused herself and put on a heavier suit and coat, going outside. It was snowing lightly and she held out her hands, watching the flakes dissolve. She didn't wear gloves; never had, never would. She liked seeing her pale skin next to the snow, both so white and pretty. Once Yui told her she was jealous of how white and pristine her skin looked, like a little doll. She even marveled at how her hands never seemed to get cold. After that, Kyoko silently decided she wouldn't wear gloves in winter and would deal with the coldness as it came. 

She ran ahead, off the yard and into the road, watching her footprints. She stared at the snow and how it sparkled and thought it looked a bit like ice-cream. If she ate enough, would it quell the magma in her stomach? If she ate enough, would it fill her with coldness and never let her feel passion ever again? If she ate enough, would she become as cold and serious as her grandfather? 

Kyoko stooped down and grabbed a handful of pure snow, shoving it into her mouth. It was sharp and cold and made her shiver violently and nearly spit it out until it melted and she swallowed the water harmlessly. 

It didn't taste like sugar at all. 

It didn't taste like anything at all. 

=

"Did you like that book I gave you?" Yui asked eagerly once it was time to return to school. They walked together, side-by-side, both wearing dark backpacks and vintage outfits. 

"The one about Japanese mythology?" 

"Yeah! Duh! Have I given you any other book?" 

"Some others," It was still snowing and Kyoko kept her head down, letting the flakes settle into her hair. "It was okay," 

"Come on, tell me how you feel! Did you like it? Dislike it? What were your favourite parts?" Yui continued to ask happily. "I really like tanuki, they're so cute, right? And how they can shapeshift into anything! Watch out, or your pencil might be a tanuki!" She jokingly poked Kyoko's side, making her jump. 

Fuhito had poked her side that previous night and shot her a displeased look. She had no dinner or breakfast. 

"I didn't really have a favourite," Kyoko insisted. 

"We're not in the agency right now, nor around your grandfather. You can tell me what's on your mind," Yui pouted slightly. 

"I don't have one. It was a decent and informative book," She walked a bit faster. "Have you eaten snow before? Yamaguchi-san ate some before break and said it tasted strange," 

"Maybe she ate some with mud in it," Yui brushed her off. 

Yui was older than her, so they split when they arrived at the school. Kyoko took her place with the middle-school girls; she shared a room with two Japanese girls; one was Buddhist while the other was Christian, and an American-Japanese girl; they had no clue what she believed. They buzzed excitedly over what they did over break and for the holidays while Kyoko put her bag on her bed, unpacked it, folded everything up neatly into her designated drawer, and stared at her reflection in the tiny window. 

Back to the usual haul of school, and occasionally detective stints afterwards. It was enough to null her mind; just run on autopilot. She always got good grades and memorized the Buddhist mantras and threw rocks at robbers and knocked out vandalizers. She ate what was given to her, but her roommates thought she looked thin. 

"You should eat more!" The American-Japanese girl scolded, always getting two meals and letting Kyoko have the second. 

_You should not be greedy. You should not indulge. You should remain charitable and help out others._

_You should not be greedy. You should not indulge. You should remain charitable and help out others. ___

__She said the mantras to herself every day during her prayer hour and each passing day they sound more and more hollow in her ears._ _

__She _was_ greedy. She indulged. She was not charitable and did not help out others. She snuck out of school once and found herself at a fast-food place. It reeked of grease and oil and meat. Cheap fried food. Nobody was there due to the late hour and Kyoko dazedly wandered over to the counter and ordered several meals. _ _

__She was three bites into her fourth burger when her eyes snapped open and she stared at the pile of wrappers and the food swimming in grease she had yet to eat. She ran out of the store in a panic and collapsed on the snow, trying to shove more down her throat. One of the teachers found her the next morning, confused as to what even happened._ _

__It must've been drugs, it must've been alcohol, it must've been some man who spurred her, maybe she secretly had some kind of disorder._ _

__After that, the teachers kept a closer eye on her and appointed Yui as her official guide, to almost never let her out of her sight. Yui was thrilled, Kyoko less so._ _

__The moment she returned home, she waited until Fuhito had gone to bed, then she raided the pantry and found a box of spaghetti._ _

__The magma came back in full force, churning liquid fire around her stomach. She winced and clutched it as she hurried to cook the pasta to her best ability, stirring it around rapidly._ _

__Once it was done, she peeked into the pot and started eating it once it was drained; no sauce, no vegetables, no nothing. She slurped the noodles down rapidly and found herself choking a few times but kept at it._ _

__"What are you doing?!"_ _

__The lights flashed on, making her blink rapidly. When were they off?_ _

__A strong hand yanked her away from the pot, making it drop and clatter, spilling noodles everywhere. Kyoko choked from the shock and felt her mind become clearer._ _

__"Tell me right now! What are you doing?! What is wrong with you?!" He shook her violently. Her stomach felt painfully full and she looked away. "Answer me!"_ _

__"I was..." She found herself unable to answer._ _

__"I knew there was something wrong with you! You're going to have to lose all the weight you put on, you know!" He threw her aside, making her close her eyes. She suddenly didn't have the strength to stand up; her limbs felt heavy and her stomach felt as though several rocks were grinding around inside._ _

__She slept on the kitchen floor that night._ _

__=_ _

__Breakfast, lunch, and dinner was one bowl of miso soup and a cup of tea. On special occasions, she was permitted a rice-ball._ _

__One day, she tracked down an illegal gambler and noticed they were smoking as she waited for the police to properly catch them._ _

__"What's that like?"_ _

__"What's what like?"_ _

__"Smoking," She asked, pointing to the cigarette._ _

__"I dunno. Just something I do," They shrugged and pulled one out of their pocket. "Want to try? You smoke?"_ _

__"No," Kyoko took it and lit it up with their lighter, coughing from her big puff. She handed it back, shaking her head. The gambler scoffed._ _

__"Yeah, knew it. You're a detective, so you're too much of a nice person,"_ _

__They were hauled away and Kyoko thought of popcorn and her stomach, cutting through her like hot claws. She was hungry. She got some takoyaki and scarfed them down, then headed back to school. She burst into Yui's dorm, making the older girl look up from her desk._ _

__"Kyoko-chan! What are you doing here-" She got cut off by Kyoko suddenly kissing her, practically shoving their lips together. "Kyoko-chan! What the heck?!"_ _

__"Let me be a bad person. Let me be greedy and selfish and glutinous," She demanded with a seriousness Yui had never seen from her._ _

__"But..." Yui could've said a number of things. She could've declined. She could've said they would get caught. She could've said Kyoko clearly wasn't in her right mind. She could've said they were too young, Kyoko especially._ _

__She instead took Kyoko's hand and nodded, pulling her onto her bed. The bed was large and soft, perfect for the two. Kyoko had no idea what she was doing and neither did Yui, yet she let Kyoko take control. Kyoko kissed her hungrily, tasting cherry and apple and strawberry and peach. She slipped in her tongue and growled and moaned, a hungry animal ready to claim its prey. She went down further and tasted Yui completely, not just tasting her but eating her, devouring her. It tasted of yogurt, steak, birthday cake. She ate her flesh and picked at her bones and stuffed herself entirely._ _

__Yui held her in her arms and allowed herself to be ravished, a meaty body with flesh to devour and bones to lick clean. Once the predator had finished and moved on, allowing for the prey to come back out, she pulled Kyoko closer and they snuggled close together._ _

__=_ _

__Kyoko was gifted a Rosary by one of her teachers on her first day. It was odd, since they were Buddhist missionaries and not Christian, but it mattered little at the end of the day._ _

__She threw it away a week after she slept with Yui._ _

__=_ _

__"I'm a sinner, I can never reach Nirvana,"_ _

__"I think we're all sinners,"_ _

__They kissed._ _

__Kyoko thought it was the first time she had ever heard Yui be frank with her._ _

__=_ _

__Kyoko learned of a convenience store not far from her grandfather's place and with the money she earned from the small cases she did, she snuck off and went inside, her eyes widening at the selection. The burning claws seared hotly inside her, boiling her intestines and stomach in a hot acid. She clutched it, starving. She needed something to eat, something, anything! All she had was a bowl of miso soup!_ _

__Her eyes settled on a giant chocolate cake and she raced towards it, pulling it off the rack easily and holding it close to her body. She placed it on the counter, reached for her money, fully ready to buy it-_ _

__"Birthday?"_ _

__She jumped and turned around, meeting a boy with eyes as violet as her own, wearing frumpy and mismatched clothing over a large leather jacket. She figured her own appearance wasn't much better; a patterned dress over a too-big leather jacket, but what did it matter?_ _

__He looked at her, then at the cake, likely trying to piece it together in his head. She forced her face to look more neutral and nodded._ _

__"Yes. It's a big one, for a friend. Lots of people will be coming so I need a big cake," She placed the money on the counter and left, holding the cake easily. She originally wanted to eat outside on the sidewalk, but what if that boy saw her again? She slunk around to the back and sat down in the claustrophobic alley, yanking the top off the cake box and trailing her finger through the icing. It was a nice-looking cake, chocolate decorated with pink icing roses. Someone more deserving could've bought this cake, someone with an actual birthday and friends who would eat this cake, just one slice per person like what normal people did._ _

__She grabbed at the icing and felt her hands get coated and started licking it off without discrimination. She ripped out smaller pieces and started eating those, shoving it all into her mouth. Her stomach burned and raged all the while, demanding more and more._ _

__It took her a half hour to eat the cake and afterwards she lied down in the alleyway, feeling the cold water seep into her clothing and hair. It reeked. Her stomach felt heavy and slowly churned, unsure of what to do with an entire cake. It served her right. She was a punishment for those who were bad and stingy, she herself was bad. She would be punished like women so often were in those old legends and myths._ _

__She closed her eyes and felt something liquid come up her throat; she tasted chocolate and bile._ _

__=_ _

__"A detective never collapses somewhere random! That could cost you your life some day!"_ _

__Kyoko felt as though she would prefer that, sometimes._ _

__=_ _

__The store was her sanctuary. Today she bought four cheeseburgers and one was already halfway into her mouth before she properly sat down. Everything slipped by her as she continued to eat, shoving the burgers down. The magma burned brighter, the claws struck sharper, and the voice in her mind screamed louder even as she did so._ _

__Once she finished, she threw her trash away and took off running, stumbling a bit from how full and heavy she felt. The grease swam painfully in circles inside her, making her dizzy. She had training with Yui to do that day though. She continued running, ignoring the heavy weight in her gut and tried to focus solely on her physical training. The oil and grease and fried meat swirled around more and more, making Kyoko run slowly and stretch sluggishly._ _

__"Pick up the pace!" The teacher shouted at her, making her try to run faster. Yui had already ran ahead of her and was starting the climbing portion. Kyoko frowned and ran over to the ladder, slowly climbing up it. Her arms felt like weights and she winced every time she tried to lift one to climb onto another rung. Yui stared back at her in concern._ _

__"I can do this.." She whispered to herself, suddenly feeling her gut quicken. She widened her eyes and hurriedly tried to climb down, sighing as she burped. She managed to climb down another rung before she burped again and then vomited profusely on the rungs, spraying it through the ladder and onto the ground. She went for another round, dousing everything around her. Something felt like it had fallen out of her head, and she barely registered losing her grip on the ladder and crashing to the ground below._ _

__The girls screamed, of course. Many of them screamed and looked confused and lost, while a few tried to get treatment or another adult. Yui was right by Kyoko's side, shaking her gently and trying to get her to stir._ _

__"It's probably just a flu, just the flu!" She insisted as the medical professionals arrived, looking at a loss of what to do with Kyoko or where to put her. Yui watched them take her unconscious body away, pouting._ _

__Kyoko always finished climbing the ladder the same time as her._ _

__=_ _

__Kyoko woke up in a medical bed, tucked in but not strapped to anything. Her whole being felt hollow, as if someone had squeezed all the liquid out of her like a towel. There were no hushed whispers of medical staff, not a single soul in her room, even the lights were quietly dimmed. She remained laying down, every part of her lifeless. Nobody came to check on her for the remainder of the night, and in the morning a nurse who might as well have been faceless gave her a tiny bowl of cottage cheese._ _

__The monster raged silently about portion sizes. Kyoko went back to sleep._ _

__=_ _

__They sent her home afterwards for a few weeks, saying she was severely mentally upset and needed to be with a family member. Kyoko would've preferred Yui's company, but though she may call her 'big sister' she was no sister in the school's eyes, so back to Fuhito she went. He had new outfits for her arrival and poked her sides, frowning._ _

__"What did they serve you in that hospital?"_ _

__"Cottage cheese,"_ _

__"It was too much,"_ _

__The dresses were in bland, dark colours, and Kyoko found that suited her. She was fond of purple in darker shades to go with her eyes and hair, but anything brighter was unacceptable in her eyes. The Buddhist girl mended Kyoko's leather jacket and it fit her perfectly, though she secretly wondered how long that would last._ _

__Fuhito never monitored what she did on her computer, so late at night, she turned the lights off and searched, going deep into the Internet for answers. She read English, French, German, Italian, piecing things together. Her puking and collapsing off the ladder left a bad memory and sour taste and she needed to know what was wrong with her._ _

__Her eyes widened as she came across something that sounded like an answer after fifty or more pages of deep, extensive research on an American physiatrist site._ _

__She had an answer, some kind of answer, which was better than no answer at all._ _

__=_ _

__She saw that boy at the store again and without saying a word, bought a huge tub of ice-cream. He also said nothing and the two sat outside, battling with their spoons over who got to take bigger bites out of the ice-cream._ _

__By the time they had finished, the sun was setting and he began smoking while she leaned back, burping sickly._ _

__"You have binge-eating-disorder," She finally spoke, glancing ahead. "So do I,"_ _

__"No way! I ain't got anything wrong with me," He instantly declined, as she expected. She listened to him rant about how his mother always fed him good and how his dad was an abusive drunk and he kept his weight in check by always exercising at the gym. She held her stomach as she listened and wondered how much weight she had gained. If her mother could see her now...she would no longer look like her, a skinny little ghost-coloured waif. Instead she felt more like a clunky baby doll with a missing eye or limb that one would find discarded on the side of the road._ _

__She waited for him to finish, then listed out the signs, only to have him loudly deny it yet again. She looked over and saw him still smoking and that gambler flashed through her mind._ _

__"Can I have one?" She asked, gesturing to it._ _

__"You smoke?" He asked in surprise, handing her one and helping her light it._ _

__"No," She took a drag and coughed hard, then took another one, coughed again, and then another drag. She blew some smoke out of her mouth. "I have it too. My grandfather locked all the food away from me when he caught me binging on noodles,"_ _

__"Oh, man, I'm sorry," He apologized awkwardly. "But I thought chicks were into...not eating? Why do you want to eat so much?"_ _

__"Because I'm a punishment," Another drag._ _

__"What?" He then shook his head. "Look, I ain't got anything wrong with me! That sort of stuff is for chicks!"_ _

__Kyoko heard his voice weaken slightly and stood up, stamping out her cigarette. She slipped her hand into her pocket and threw a bundle of money at him._ _

__"Kirigiri Kyoko," She commented._ _

__"Oowada Mondo,"_ _

__She walked off after that, not seeing or hearing his reaction to her little gift. She had done all she needed to._ _

__=_ _

__Kyoko woke up in a hospital again, this time with machines attached to her and people running around. A mask pumping oxygen was around her mouth, though when her eyes fluttered, someone came over and slowed the feed down, eyeing her._ _

__"Are you alright?"_ _

__Her insides felt hollow, like she was a previous owner of two mouths and someone forcefully yanked the teeth and hair from the one inside her head. Her stomach in particular roiled with white-hot lava, and her hands felt rubbery and stiff. She stared blankly at the ceiling._ _

__Climbing a ladder, feeling the silver rungs being clasped under her hands. A kiss shared between her and Yui again. The crash of a door and the smell of gasoline. Yui insisted she'd go on ahead and pushed Kyoko away, slamming the door. Kyoko losing her composure and banging and kicking against the door, crying and calling out her name. The door felt warm, the doorknob burned, and yet she yanked it open and rushed inside, shielding her face from the fire and smoke and looking for Yui. She dripped sweat underneath her uniform and felt dizzy and her chest nearly closed up when she saw a flash of forest-green._ _

__Yui's name died in her throat as she reached into the fire and tried to pull her best friend out with her, only to come up with part of her burned remains. Her hands went with her._ _

__=_ _

__"Your gloves look so cute!"_ _

__"Yeah, you look like a biker chick!"_ _

__Kyoko's roommates complimented her when she returned to school, wearing all black with her leather jacket and new matching gloves. She said nothing. Fuhito scoffed upon seeing her in the hospital, telling her that's what she deserved for becoming too familiar with someone in the field._ _

__"Just like your father,"_ _

__He didn't visit her for the remainder of her recovery period, and though enough people stared at her hands to make her consider some sort of covering, she knew it was just curiosity and shock they displayed. None of their stares could hurt like her grandfather's words did._ _

__Even now, her roommates were just trying to be nice._ _

__=_ _

__"Let's do it," Kyoko suggested after a binge; pizza and cake and chicken. They both feel heavy and oily and disgusting and started smoking._ _

__"You ain't that kinda girl,"_ _

__"I want to,"_ _

__He didn't take her to his place or hers. The place they rented was barely a step above a dank alley with a creaky worn bed and faded pictures. Kyoko laid down and let him take control. She knew her gloved hands would feel odd and unnatural, clumsy and heavy, like giant balloons trying to rub against flesh._ _

__The predator was out again, prowling for the prey. Kyoko was underneath him, letting him eat her and savor her. This is a different kind of feast, far different from her numerous meals she made of Yui. He tasted of nicotine and sweat and alcohol and just general manliness, the stink and sweat that came with it. She made a quick meal of him, licking and sucking, then he was in her, on top of her, the carnivore feasted. He made quick work of her, devouring her whole in one bite, spitting her out, leaving her bones. It was not satisfying, not pleasant, no fruit or dessert to placate the prey this time around. There was growling and tasting and ravishing, Kyoko exposing her entire self to the carnivore who ate her._ _

__Once the feast was over and her bones remained, there was no prey to come out. The predator left with several rounds of salty spray on her and in her, and a pack of cigarettes on the table. Kyoko smoked one before she went to bed._ _

__=_ _

__She returned to school, settling back into the routines. According to Mondo, the few times she saw him after that encounter, she could eat an entire cake in just ten minutes. She wanted to be more intimate with him; she was a sinner, it was her punishment, but he only allowed her to kiss him. He never felt up to it anymore. Her detective jobs became more and more elaborate and bigger, and soon she was pursuing genuine dangerous and wanted criminals who had avoided capture for years. Eating a bunch was just expected of one who spent their late nights fighting for the greater good. Fuhito still scoffed at her and clicked his tongue at her, especially when she displayed her gloves one time too many. She visited Yui's grave during the summer and winter. Gradually, she ate less._ _

__One day, while pursuing the library at her school, she came across the old book of Japanese legends Yui gave to her, all those years ago. She slipped it out of its slot curiously and flipped through it, finding the section on the futakuchi-onna._ _

__"I'm not a punishment," She felt magma bubble up in her stomach again and put the book back, hurrying away from its spot._ _

__^*^_ _

__At Hope's Peak, she met a boy with brown hair and average features who gave her unconditional love and support no matter what, who always ate whenever he can, who wanted to learn more about her. She also met a girl with blue hair who cinched her waist with tight belts, seemingly ate nothing at all, and treated her with politeness despite their obvious differences in everything, not just weight, but was taken too soon, and suddenly everything made sense._ _

__

__^*^_ _

__At Hope's Peak, he met a boy with hazel-green eyes and grungy hoodie who always loved to hear him talk about his hog, told him he was cool, and never needed to eat or work out to feel like a man, yet he was one of the manliest people he knew. He also met another boy, though one wouldn't know at first glance, with sandy hair who baked cupcakes and cookies as good as a mother, ate ramen and fish like a total dude, and spent half the lunch period with his head in the toilet, and suddenly everything made sense._ _

**Author's Note:**

> How did I come up with a fic like this? I've wanted to write a fanfic for quite some time now, didn't matter the fandom, on a character struggling with binge-eating-disorder which I struggled with for a few years as a kid. I just couldn't think of a good character to pick because binge-eating-disorder is very different from bulimia and anorexia. It usually stems from emotional stress/turmoil, overwhelming stress or perfectionism, worries over food security, or an inability to process/deal with emotional/mental stress, trauma, or negativity. Thus, I felt it had to make sense for the character. I didn't want to spread any misconceptions or misinformation about an eating disorder that still isn't talked about much and is usually brushed off or portrayed as a fetish or as no big deal in other fanworks. I already feel like the utter trash of society having an eating disorder like this. 
> 
> Then I read a fanfic several months ago that basically said 'eating disorders are for fat girls who are too stupid to not fall into that trap, I never developed one because my mom loved me' That triggered me, no joke. It was a Danganronpa fanfic so I instantly ran to my computer to write a version where the character who says that; Kyoko, has binge-eating-disorder as some kind of petty revenge. Mondo got added along the way because it's the most common eating disorder in men and I thought it'd be an interesting angle; this hyper-masculine guy always obsessed with his manhood falling into an endless cycle of an eating disorder. Then it turned into whatever this is. 
> 
> At the end of the day, I want people to know how freeing and cathartic this was for me to write. I very rarely if ever open up about my personal life on fanfic sites because I feel like there's a limit; nobody is here to read your life story they want to read some fics about their fave characters. Thus nobody knows very much about me on a personal level and I'm completely okay with that. Here, though, I'm exposing the darkest part of my past to everyone. Was it worth it? Did it pay off? I don't know yet. I struggled majorly coming up with the best way to write this, the best way to put my feelings out there, in a way that was sympathetic to the audience because this is not an easy eating disorder to write, to portray in a way that would be sympathetic. As said above, a majority of stuff presented in this fic I experienced myself when I had the eating disorder. You feel like garbage. You feel so exhausted, the only thing that gets you out of bed is the thought of binging that day. You're stuck an endless cycle, feel like trash, binge, feel good, feel like trash, binge, rinse and repeat several times a day/week. If this fanfic inspired even one person to look more into this eating disorder and how these people feel, then it has done its job. If this fanfic made someone feel genuinely emotional over someone who copes by eating like crazy, then it also has done its job. People might see me very differently after this, but that's okay, I want nothing to hide anymore. Look more into this eating disorder if you are curious, it is a very different one in comparison and the survivors have interesting stories to tell. And if you think you might have it, get it checked out, don't make the mistake I did. When I had it, it wasn't categorized as an actual eating disorder so I had very little resources or help to know what I had. It was made one in 2013. 
> 
> And lastly, thank you if you made it this far. My bones may be ugly, but they are beautiful in their own way as well. I hope you have a good rest of your week, and remember, you are beautiful, you are loved, you really do have someone out there who cares for you, and it's healthy to express your emotions in some form, don't just keep them inside.


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